


your presence stills my unworthy racing mind

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, Begging, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Feelings, Femslash February, Hair-pulling, Inappropriate Workplace Relations, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Roughness, they are in love, unshakably in love and can handle a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: They fight, sometimes, at work. It is to be expected, really, given their circumstances. Their fights are to be expected and they aways make up for them later at home. Except for one time when they most decidedly do not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Stared at a gif!set of [Bernie "ready to fight in the trauma lab" Wolfe](http://nervouspearl.tumblr.com/post/156947118329/youre-going-to-perform-a-laparotomy-in-here) from the newest ep for all of two seconds and then this fell out. 
> 
> Rated explicit for general kink overtones rather than e x p l i c t content. Set at some point in the future and I don't know a flipping thing about surgery. 
> 
> Title inspired by Phildel's "Dare".

They fight, sometimes, at work. It is to be expected, really, that would be arguments. It ought to be assumed that when there are two incredibly skilled surgeons leading the same ward harsh words are, on occasion, exchanged. When two forceful personalities that refuse to compromise on patient care are each other’s co-counsel. With two women who, in their own heads at least, are always right. And they are —always right, that it — just not necessarily at the same time. Except when they are both right at exactly at the same time. It is to be expected, then, and the disagreements are numerous and varied.

They disagree on how to talk to the junior doctors. Serena likes scaring the F1s a little while Bernie is more interested in sturdy advice and stern praise. The argue about the the state of the office. Serena wants it clean and tidy all the time but Bernie has always had a knack for making things messy. The spar over patient categorisation on the ward. Serena always sides with vascular and Bernie with trauma until they start thinking so much like the other they begin to argue against their own speciality. The ward is a bit baffled when that happens. But these disagreements are to be expected and they always make up for it later.

Indeed, they do always make up, later, when they are at home. When Serena will come in through the front door to find Bernie, having raced home to make dinner, with an open bottle of wine waiting. When Bernie will apologise with her mouth twice over: her words and her kisses. When Bernie will come home to find Serena in the kitchen, having already picked up Bernie’s favourite take out. When Serena will set aside two types of dessert: one to be eaten off a plate and another to be eaten off herself. Or other times when they simply skip the bribes and head straight to bedroom to work out their frustrations until they are both too sweaty and swollen and sated to worry what they were arguing about in the first place.

Their fights are to be expected and they aways make up for them later at home: except for one time when they most decidedly do not.

 

*****

 

They have a RTC with sever intra-abdominal injuries: they still do not know if his kidney, his liver, or his spleen is the worst of. They are still trying to hash out their hazy rushed diagnosis when the man starts crashing. They both know they need to get him to surgery right away but they cannot agree on what surgery to prep for. Fletch has already tried to step in a diffuse, Morven and Raf are eyeing the exit, and the trauma nurses are looking at one another awkwardly. 

“We haven’t got time for this, we’re doing the laparotomy.”

“But that won’t deal with—” Serena objects and Bernie cuts her off.

“Do you really want to keep arguing about this?”

“Yes, we have to!” Serena honestly does believe that and Bernie knows it. Not that it matters.

“Well, we’re not, because there’s nothing to argue about.”

“Bernie—” Serena stops as the patients BP drops. Machines start beeping and Bernie knows they have to move now.

“We haven’t the time!” Bernie all but shouted. “I’m trauma lead, so follow my lead. If you can’t manage that, send in Morven.”

She turns away from Serena and towards the patient: races the bed toward the theatre. The team of nurses scrub in and start to prep for the laparotomy. Bernie starts to scrub and feels a tinge of emotion pull at her focus. Pushes it away, it serves to helps no one; she has a job to do now, she can feel it later. She focuses on scrubbing and cannot say she is really surprised when Morven joins her at the trough.

 

*****

 

The surgery goes well. Bernie made the right call to abbreviate and send him on to ITC for further care. The nurses are packing up the theatre and Bernie starts to scrub out. The water flows over her forearms and she breaths deep: lets her earlier emotions wash over her. Anger, regret, panic, regret, frustration. She breathes again, feels them in full force, and her knees almost buckle. She start planning how to apologise to Serena as water washes suds off her forearms; keeps planning as she changes into her civvies.

Bernie replays what she wants to say in her head the whole way back to the ward. Over and over again - I’m sorry, I should never have said that. You were right and so was I but we didn’t have time. I should never have yelled, I’m sorry - over and over again. Repeats in her mind until her mouth is ready to say it too.

She looks for Serena as she as she gets back to AAU. Spies in her in the corner with a patient. Walks over to join, intent on pulling Serena aside as soon she as she has a free moment. Keeps repeating her apologies in her head to keep it fresh and her resolve steady. But Bernie’s good intentions are thrown out the window the second she starts interacting with Serena.

Or, more accurately, when Serena starts interacting with Bernie. Serena is obviously still riled up and every bit as furious as she was when Bernie left for theatre. She calls her Ms. Wolfe, which Bernie thinks she probably deserves. Snatches a patient's chart from Bernie’s hand, which Bernie is pretty sure she does not deserve. Finishes up with the patient and stalks away from Bernie without a backward glance, which Bernie is certain she does not deserve.

Bernie tries to apologise to Serena for the next hour but Serena will not hear it. Lashes out with bites and snips and pokes at Bernie as they do a ward round. Serena snarks and Bernie cannot help rising to the bait. Serena pushes back and does not back down an inch. Neither does Bernie. By the time they finish their rounds they are fuming at one another again and can barely speak.

Bernie leaves Serena to manage the ward and retreats to their office to catch up on paperwork.

 

*****

 

Bernie does not seen Serena stalk through the ward, through the corridors, through the halls. Does not see Serena stop by the office and see Bernie. Does not seen Serena stop and collect herself. Does not seen Serena put her hand on the doorknob, breathe deeply, and push it open. She does not see Serena close the door behind her but she hears it all the same.

Bernie know they are in the same room now but does not look up. Serena shuts the blind. Bernie ignores her and focuses on her paperwork. Serena shuts the next blind and Bernie still ignores her. Serena shuts the last blind and the room is suddenly much darker and Bernie cannot not ignore Serena. Looks up to find her standing a foot away at the corner of her desk

“What are you doing?” Bernie looks up and perplexed. Her confusion softens the anger etched on her face.

“I cannot believe you said that to me in the bay.” There is nothing gentle in Serena’s voice and Bernie has the good sense to look away.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. It was harsh and I overstepped, I’m so—”Bernie is cut off by a hand over her mouth. Serena is not interested in apologies. Not today.

“How dare you,” Serena voice drips venom but her fingers are gentle against Bernie’s lips. “How dare you undermine me like that, in our trauma bay, in our ward.”

She moves her hand away and Bernie tries to apologise again.

“It was cruel, I’m so—” Serena cuts her off again: grabbing the arm rest of Bernie’s chair and turning it to face her. Pushes it back into the filing cabinet. Bernie bounces with the force and stares at Serena with big wide eyes.Serena’s eyes glint fury and her mouth snarls rage. She mellows a fraction when she registers the apology on Bernie’s face; her mouth softens but her stare remains.

Serena searches, asking permission. Bernie inhales sharply and gives her a tiny nod.

She reaches forward, grabs a fistful of Bernie crisp white shirt, and pulls her up to her feet by the collar. Her leg reaches out to kick the chair out from under her and away, and pivots Bernie onto the desk. Bernie’s leg part and Serena pushes herself between them, tightens her grip on the collar and smashes their lips together.

Bernie tries to rest her hands on Serena’s hips. Serena immediately stills. Pulls away, stares at Bernie. Slowly, deliberately, lets go of the shirt and takes Bernie’s hands off her hips. Puts them palm down on the desk and curls Bernie’s fingers around the edge. Her eyes glare a silent warning before she leans forward again to ravish Bernie’s mouth.

Serena’s hands, free to roam, reach up to Bernie’s hair. They wind themselves through golden locks and tighten. Slightly, at first, just a taste. Bernie leans into the pull, stretches her neck. Then more, grip harder: Bernie’s knuckles on the desk clench white. Harder still, burning and delicious; Bernie moans so loud it echoes in their tiny workplace office. Serena pulls back and Bernie tries to follow her lips. Finds a finger pressed to them instead.

“Stay quite, Berenice.” It is a command if ever Bernie heard one and she has. Heard commands in the ward, in the board room, on the battlefield. She would go to war for this woman. “We are at work, after all.”

There is a light in Serena’s eyes at makes Bernie’s skin hum..sing… _scream._ She nods and Serena presses her hips hard against her as reward. Kisses her again. Breaks away and burns a trail down her throat: kisses her chin, the underside of her jaw, down her larynx to the hollow of her neck.Serena’s hand trails down the collar of Bernie shirt. Flicks open the top button to expose more chest to Serena’s hot greedy mouth.

Her hand keeps trailing down to tease at the hem of Bernie’s shirt, finger inching under the fabric to brush against taunt muscles. It only takes a fingertip of contact and Bernie’s stomach is quivering. Serena runs her whole palm up over her bellybutton and into the dip of Bernie’s waist. Bernie has to stop herself bucking and Serena feels the restraint it take. Knows the effect she is having. Knows the power she has. Knows that she has Bernie and revels in the feeling. 

Serena keeps teasing Bernie until her whole body is trembling and she is gasping and Serena swears she heard a sob or two thrown in there. She takes a moment of pity, kisses Bernie deeply and paws at her breast: pinch a nipple through layers of fabric. Bernie presses her chest forward as Serena pulls away. Yanks her hair again. Bernie’s head falls back with a barely swallowed cry and Serena dips two fingers into Bernie’s open mouth.

“No, Bernie, that’s not what I want to hear,” Serena says, letting Bernie suck her fingers sticky. Removes them traces the edge of a thin bottom lip as Bernie struggles to remember how to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Bernie finally manages to get it all out this time.

“No, that’s not it either.” A touch of promise lightens Serena’s tone. Bernie blinks, brain fuzzy and unsure. The pull on her scalp is incessant.

“What do you want?” Bernie asks in earnest. What ever it is she will do it. Whatever Serena wants she will have.

“I want you to beg,” Serena says, voice heavy. Bernie throbs. “I want you to beg me to touch you, to take you right now. I want you to beg to me fuck you, here on the desk, in our office.”

Bernie rages within herself: sex in the office is so far beyond their normal ethic. But then again so it this, Bernie remembers, what they are doing right now. And Serena is so strong and scorching and right _there._ It makes Bernie ache and her head fritz. Serena wants this — she asked for it — and Bernie needs it so badly; suddenly there is nothing to think about.

“Please, Serena,” Bernie pleads. “Please touch me. I need you to touch me,” Bernie begs, eyes wide and open and wanting.

“No.”

Bernie has never felt slapped by a singular syllable before. She gapes at Serena, who stares at her with steel in her eyes.

“No, you can wait. Until we get home. And then you can beg me again.”

Bernie whole body is quivering and she feels like she might cry. She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and nods.

Serena smiles: smug and self satisfied. Leans forward to brush one last gentle kiss against Bernie’s bottom lip, before pushing away from the desk and Bernie. She smooths down her blouse, wipes a thumb along the line of her lip: checks to make sure it comes away clean, and brushes her fingertips through her hair. She pins Bernie with one last stare, before turning and walking out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Bernie pushes her weight off the desk and onto her feet. Tries to stand with shaky legs and stumbles a little. Makes it to her chair in the corner and wheels it back to her desk. Does up her top button and smoothes out her collar. Fights the urge to unzip her jeans and come against her hand under her desk in the middle of her shift.

She manages it, barely, because that is not what Serena wants. And whatever Serena wants Bernie will give: she need only ask.


End file.
